


for you, for me

by duvetdays



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Excessive pet names, F/F, First Time, Girl Direction, Identity Issues, Internalized Acephobia, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with Feelings, Self-Discovery, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-23 08:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duvetdays/pseuds/duvetdays
Summary: It shouldn’t be this hard. If she actually wants this, why is it so hard?





	for you, for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [objectlesson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson/gifts).



> hi! so this is my first girl direction fic and my first smutty fic :s i wanted to hit on the struggles of being ace, gay, and a ~girl as well as accepting that it's ok to want sex while being all of those things. if you can relate, i hope you can find some comfort in this, if not i hope you enjoy the vague, soft core porn anyway.
> 
> i just want to thank anyone who's ever published a femslash fic on here for me to read, because it's helped me so much. also a special thank you to objectlesson for all of the time she takes answering questions on her tumblr and for helping me find the courage to write this.
> 
> :)
> 
> title from to build a home by the cinematic orchestra. super cheesy we love it.

It must be something about the combination of Louis sitting in only her underwear and munching on purple grapes that makes Harry want to ask. Her eyes are crinkling with the giggles she’s letting out at an episode of _Friends_ that they’ve both seen about a million times and she’s being incredibly messy about eating the grapes, licking her fingers and stretching her tongue to swipe the water that’s running down her chin. It has to be that. Even if it isn’t, that’s what Harry is going to blame it on. That and the errant thoughts that have been running through her head for the past few days, ever since she accidentally slipped a finger inside herself and realised that she didn’t hate it, and that maybe she wanted it to be someone else.

Harry isn’t wearing a bra and she can see Louis stealing glances every so often when she manages to tear her eyes away from Harry’s ice lolly red mouth. It’s comforting to know that maybe Louis still wants her that way even when she told Louis she’d never want her like that. That’s stupid, Harry realises, because it’s not like Louis made some don’t-be-attracted-to-Harry pact with herself.

She doesn’t get it, doesn’t really know what that’s like, to see someone else’s body in a sexual way, in a way where she wants to act on it. But she wonders, often. When they go out she’ll watch Louis dance in that sensual way that she does, where she ruffles her short hair and sways her hips, and try to imagine what it would feel like to want to pin her down they way Louis used to tell her she wanted her to. Everything Louis does is enchanting, from the way she pulls her lip between her fingers to the way she tugs her shirt over her head without caring that she’ll mess up her hair or the little makeup that she might’ve put on. But it’s not like that, never like _that._ Harry never wants to replace Louis’ fingers with her own, never wants to be the one pulling her shirt off.

 _I just wanna bite you, kiss you_ , Louis would say softly into her ear, _All over._ She’d pinch Harry’s cheeks, then her hips, then her bum before tugging on her hair and kissing her hard. She’d only thought then that Harry wasn’t ready, but once Harry told her the truth, she’d stop saying things like that.

Harry half wishes that she hadn’t. Maybe she would have just gotten used to it. Maybe she would’ve stopped squirming in the bad way and started to like it. Plus, it felt nice to feel wanted, especially by another girl.

Even now, with Louis looking at her like she wants to say those things – do them, even – she just _wonders_. What if, what if, what if. What if Louis pushed her down onto the couch, snacks forgotten, and just tugged her vest over her head. What if Louis sucked a huge bruise into her neck, a bunch of tiny ones into her exposed stomach, pulled her shorts off. What if Louis did all the things that maybe Harry wasn’t so much opposed to but just didn’t know how to ask for, didn’t know how to _want._

She’s scared, though, so scared to ask and oblivious as how to approach the subject after she made such a huge deal about coming out to Louis. _I’m never gonna want to,_ she said, _The thought of it scares me, it makes me uncomfortable, I hate talking about it, I feel horrible even thinking about it_. That last bit at least remains true.

It had been so much all at once, and Louis never asked about it again. But maybe Harry’s mind has changed. She trusts Louis a million times more now than she did then. She doesn’t want to take it _back._ She just wants to… maybe switch her cards a bit. She’s not allergic to sex, or pleasure at the very least.

She hates how much she thinks about it, about someone else touching her in the way that only she has touched herself. She feels guilty, mostly, because it’s never Louis. It’s never anyone. She’d probably feel worse if it was, even more guilty and gross. Her brain doesn’t know how to insert the girl she loves into her virgin pseudo-fantasies.

Maybe she should just _ask–_

“Hey.”

Harry’s been caught staring, and not for the first time.

“Hmm?”

Louis smiles fondly, throwing a grape at Harry. Harry lunges for it, scooping it off the carpet and reminding Louis that grapes are poisonous to dogs.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve gone all spacey gawking at me. Care to share? Is there something on my face?” She makes a show of wiping the corners of her mouth.

The surge of confidence that Harry had felt in her rush of thoughts dissipates as quickly as it had come, and the words die in her throat. She shakes her head, turning back to the TV just so she has something to look at that isn’t Louis’ curious expression.

“Alright.”

She hears Louis go back to chewing, and when she turns to look, all she sees is Louis’ profile, smirking happily at the TV. She’s lit up by the light from the kitchen, and Harry thinks she falls in love all over again. Then her brain accidentally imagines eating Louis out and it’s really all downhill from there. She imagines looking up at Louis from her knees, kissing and biting in her thighs until Louis is whimpering breathlessly for something more. She’s felt the soft bare skin of Louis’ strong, footie playing legs enough times for her to imagine the feel of it against her lips.

Harry groans out loud, frustrated by her inability to figure out what it is that she wants. She’s left wondering if she’s asexual at all or if she made it all up because she’s simply just _too afraid_ to initiate anything sexual, or to even let anyone else initiate it. She’s too afraid to _talk_ about it and she’s probably just been making excuses– and now she’s crying.

“Oh God. Harry, love, what’s wrong? Stop that.” Louis weakly swats at Harry’s knee before she puts the grapes on the coffee table and pulls her in for a hug.

“Do you even believe me?” Harry blurts.

“Sorry?”

Harry pulls back, feeling oh-so-stupid. “That I’m ace. Do you believe me or is it just too far fetched, that someone could never want to have sex. Do you believe that?”

Louis looks confused, as she should. Monica is yelling in the background. “It doesn’t matter what I believe, love, if that’s how you feel–”

“Oh, fuck.” A fresh wave of tears comes over Harry. “You don’t even– I’m _sorry_. I know it’s fucked up, to like, lie. I don’t– I don’t know what I _want_.”

“Hey, hey, no. Listen.” Louis huffs a breath. “You put me on the spot, that’s not what I meant. Of course I believe you. Just because I don’t experience something the way you do doesn’t mean it isn’t real. There’s nothing wrong with you. That’s the first thing.” She scoots closer to Harry, close enough that their bare thighs are pressed together. “The second thing is that weren’t you the one to tell me that being ace means you don’t experience sexual _attraction_? Isn’t that how you explained it to me? You’re allowed to want it. You’re allowed to feel however you want and even if you think you don’t identify as ace anymore– Harry, that’s _fine_. Everyone discovers themselves one day at a time, yeah? Remember when I thought I was bi?”

Harry can’t help but laugh. She remembers that night that Louis was drunk, way back when Harry was still crushing hard and waiting for Louis to catch on. She’d gotten several free drinks that night from the lads that had chatted her up only to fall into Harry with a look of wonder on her face as she whispered, _Holy shit, I’m gay_. The next day, head in her hands, she begged Harry to help her figure out how to repel boys. They’d had a long chat about why Louis thought she was actually attracted to boys for so long. Harry introduced her to the concept of compulsory heterosexuality and watched in a guilty silence as Louis tried to pick apart what was real and what wasn’t. Harry doesn’t know why she laughed. It’s not funny at all.

“It’s okay to be confused,” Louis reminds her. “It’s okay to want things that contradict what you thought you wanted before. It doesn’t make either of those times any less valid.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say, really, so she just kisses Louis. Her tears are getting caught in her eyelashes, no doubt going to ruin the mascara she’d applied for no reason. They’ve just been sitting on the couch all day but Harry wanted to look pretty for Louis.

“I just don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

Louis waits until Harry’s had her fill of kisses before reaching for the remote to turn off the TV. She pulls Harry into a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles into her back and kissing her shoulder oh-so-gently. Tears fall faster now, because no one makes her feel as safe and loved as Louis does.

“You don’t have to be,” Louis whispers, like if she talks too loud it’ll shatter the moment, scare Harry away. “I’d never do anything to hurt you. Just tell me what you want. All _I_ want is for you to be happy.”

When they finally pull apart and Louis’ curious gaze falls on her, Harry immediately flushes red. She feels hot all over, and there’s no doubt in her mind that this is going to be the most painful conversation of her life. Worse than telling her mum that she definitely _wasn’t_ interested in sex at all.

“I just wonder,” she mumbles, shrugging. “Just… what it would be like. I always have, kind of. But then I would imagine you, or anyone else, or even me like _initiating_ anything and I’d get scared. I guess I’m still ace, in the definitive sense, but just less sex repulsed than I originally thought. I just have no idea how to go about it, no clue how to ask, and the thought of taking that step to get from point A to point B really scares me. Not the sex itself. Just the initiation of it. If that makes sense.”

Louis is smiling proudly at her. “Makes perfect sense, love. It just sounds like you equated your fear of being inexperienced to your asexuality. Probably threw you off a bit.” She rests a hand on Harry’s bare knee. It’s cold, but comforting.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“So do you like, fantasize about stuff? When you wank? If you do, that is. I don’t know.”

Harry didn’t think she could sweat much more than she already was, but her whole body runs infinitely hotter. This is agony. But she wants to be honest, want Louis to know that she trusts her. She wants to be brave for once, and give them both something they want.

HSo she nods. “Yeah. It’s not usually you, though. I feel like a creep if I do, like, picture you doing stuff. When you cross my mind... during I feel so bad, y’know?”

Louis frowns. “You don’t have to feel bad, it’s just your thoughts. No harm done.”

“Just feels weird. Pervy, like.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that. There’s nothing wrong with it, yeah? You’re not doing anything wrong.” Louis stops frowning, and it turns into a lopsided smirk. “What if I gave you my permission to think of me when you get yourself off?”

“I–” Harry really thinks she’s going to burst into flames. “I mean… I guess? I’ll, um, let you know?”

Louis bursts out laughing. She pinches Harry’s cheek, hard, then plants an obnoxiously wet kiss over the place she’d abused. “You’re literally my favorite person in the whole world, did you know that?”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with that. “I didn’t, no.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to do better job at making sure you know that.”

Louis takes Harry’s face in her hands and kisses her sweetly, just gentle close-mouthed pecks at her lips that leave Harry chasing her for more. Harry could kiss her forever.

Suddenly Louis is standing, reaching out a hand for Harry.

“C’mon,” she says gently. “I promise you’re safe with me.”

Harry’s heart starts racing from the moment her fingers interlock with Louis’, faster with every step they take towards Louis’ bedroom. She’s scared, so scared and she can’t deny it. But they both know that she won’t say otherwise, so when Louis turns on the lamp beside their bed she puts on her Very Serious Face after sitting them both down.

Harry hates that face.

“You sure you want to do this, love? Not because you feel guilty or anything? Because you know I love you regardless. And I know you know this, but I need you to really believe it: You don’t owe me anything, okay?”

Harry’s hands are sweating and she’s not really sure. But she says, “I want to, I promise, I really do.”

“Look at me.” Louis takes Harry’s shaking hands in her own. “Look at me, love.”

Harry can’t. She really, really can’t.

Louis sighs. “If you want to stop at any time, just say so, alright? I won’t be mad, I won’t be upset. You have to promise me you’ll say something if you’re uncomfortable or if something's not right. I know it’s hard to say stuff sometimes, but if you don’t promise me, then I can’t do this. Do you understand?”

Harry nods. She really hopes she can. She’s got a terrible habit of biting her tongue. “Yeah, I promise.”

“You’re shaking.”

Harry kisses her quiet, because if she doesn’t do this now she doesn’t think she ever will. It’s odd, using her body weight to push Louis into the pillows behind her, to crawl up into her lap with a purpose. She has no idea what she’s doing, no idea what the goal is, really. Louis can probably tell. She’s panting already, rough exhales landing on Harry’s lips. Harry can taste the grapes she was eating earlier.

“What d’you want, love? S’not embarrassing, whatever you ask for, I promise. You’re safe with me, alright?”

Harry’s already burning red and this is all so horrible. She feels as though she’s being forced to stand up in front of her class at school and recite her deepest darkest secret. But it’s Louis. It’s just Louis, who she’s already given her whole heart to. Just not this part. She shakes her head, tucks her face away into Louis’ neck. Louis rubs at Harry’s sides, slowly but surely working her vest up to her armpits, like she doesn’t even realise that she’s doing it. Her thumbs are pressing into Harry’s ribs and she’s just biting Harry’s shoulder, nibbling at it like she’d be content with just the simplest of touches for the rest of the night.

“Can I touch you, love? Can we take your shirt off?”

“Shit,” Harry whispers, and she’s startled by how rough her voice sounds. She nods gently against Louis’ shoulder before she can chicken out, just trying her best to breathe. Her stomach is fluttering in the best way. She didn’t know it would be like this.

“What do you think about?” Louis asks as she pulls Harry’s vest over her head. “When you’re getting off. You never told me. Tell me what you want, we can do anything you like.”

 _Anything_ is awfully brave. Harry wonders just how much Louis means that. What if Harry was into something horrible and disgusting that Louis hated? Would she still do it?

As soon as Harry’s shirt is off she falls back into Louis and presses their bodies flush together so that she doesn’t get too long a look at her. She wishes the light was off, so she could at least feel less like she was on display. It’s not very often that Harry feels the need to hide her body, but she also constantly feels the need to impress Louis, now even more so than before, and she has a feeling that her small, uneven breasts aren’t going to cut it.

“I had one thing in mind,” Harry says. She hopes that it’ll make Louis forget about the fact that she’s quite literally hiding herself from view.

It works for a second. “Do you now? Are you gonna tell me?” But then it’s quiet for a beat too long as Harry tries to find the courage to say anything at all. “Harry,” Louis whines. “Let me see you, love, come on.”

But she can’t, she can’t do it. “I’m sorry. Can I just– Can I put it back on I’m sorry–” She’s gotten all choked up, tears in her eyes and Louis can probably hear it. Harry Styles, queen of killing the mood.

“Hey, no, it’s alright. Here.” Louis hands her her shirt and sits them both up. “Just want you to feel comfortable, okay? You can leave your shirt on. Not the end of the world, I promise.” She tucks some of Harry’s long hair behind her ears after she’s righted her vest back on her body. “Don’t cry, I love you, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers.

“You don’t have to be. I’m not upset.”

“Just don’t wanna ruin it.”

“Oh, love.” Louis takes Harry’s face in her hands and kisses her. “Nothing’s ruined. Tell me that idea you had. I’m sure it’s brilliant.”

“Can I, um…” It shouldn’t be this hard. If she actually wants this, why is it so hard?

Louis bumps their noses together. “Go on.”

Harry’s breathing stutters and her eyes fall shut. “Can I get you off first? In case I freak out and ruin it? That way at least you get something out of it, y’know?”

“You won’t ruin it, but whatever you want.” She kisses Harry’s nose. “How d’you want me?”

Christ. It sounds so _dirty_ when she puts it that way. She makes everything so much more loaded than how Harry has it in her head. Harry wonders if she should say something, because she doesn’t like the crude image of Harry manhandling Louis into the position she wants, rather than them rearranging themselves together. But maybe that’s just the hopeless romantic side of Harry, wanting everything to be soft and sweet. She’ll do herself this one service though.

“You don’t have to say it like _that_.” She laughs as she says it so Louis doesn’t feel bad. “I’m… let me just–”

Louis lets Harry go so that she can climb off her lap and fall into the pile pillows behind Louis’ back. It’s soft and Harry almost wants to just lie there and fall asleep, forget that any of this ever happened. But then she catches the hungry look on Louis’ face, her eyes watching Harry where she’s sprawled out on the duvet, and it sparks something in her. She wants to make this _good._ Good for Louis, at the very least. Louis wants this, wants Harry in all the ways that Harry has been trying to comes to terms with, and she deserves to have it. She deserves the whole world and Harry will be damned if she’s not going to try and give it to her, starting with a good orgasm.

“C’mere,” Harry mumbles, patting the space between her parted legs.

Louis does, crawls forward and sidles her way all the way up Harry’s body. It makes her stomach flip. She cringes at the cold press of Louis’ nose and wet insistence of her tongue on her neck. But it’s everything she’s been imagining as Louis settles on her back against her stomach, one hand on the back of her neck to pull her down into a kiss. It’s easy to get lost in that, to not worry about what to do next. That only lasts for a moment, though, before Louis starts wiggling and stops kissing Harry and is smiling up at her expectantly, as though Harry is supposed to be the one in charge here. She’s so in over her head.

She doesn’t say anything, though, and neither does Louis. It’s just their harsh breathing in the silence of the room paired with the rustling of the sheets where Louis is unable to keep still. It becomes evident that she likes to tease herself, hand sneaking under her loose, pyjama sports bra to lightly pinch her own nipples, the other taking Harry’s hand and guiding it down her body. She must’ve read Harry’s mind.

“This alright, love?” She sounds breathy and concerned all at once. “You’ll tell me if it’s not, yeah?”

“I’m alright. Just tell me what to do. Or show me.”

Louis whimpers, like something Harry said had affected her. Maybe it did. Harry didn’t think herself one for dirty talk.

Louis takes the bait, though, and guides Harry's hand the rest of the way down, into her knickers and– She can do this. It’s just like if she were doing it to herself. And when she gets brave, resisting against Louis’ loose grip, her fingers slip through the wetness that’s gathered there and it’s a lot. It’s a lot in the literal sense, that Harry’s fingers are suddenly soaked with it. But it’s also a _lot_ , enough to make Harry gasp a very real and accidental sound right into Louis’ ear that makes Louis arch her back and press herself further into Harry.

“Go on,” Louis coaxes. She takes her hand away and wraps it around Harry’s knee. “You can take it from here, yeah?”

Harry’s suddenly very aware of the fact that she hasn’t shaved her legs in a while. Or anywhere else for that matter. Judging by the coarse hair under the palm of her hand, neither has Louis. She doesn’t mind, not at all, so why does she mind when it’s on herself? Why does she think _Louis_ is going to mind? It’s nice, for her, getting to touch Louis like this; natural, unaltered, the most real and honest version of herself.

Harry finds her voice. “Yeah.”

She curls her fingers and shakes the thoughts from her head, reveling in the high pitched whine that Louis lets out and the pinch of Louis’ short nails in her leg. She can feel herself getting more worked up, eyes focused on the movement of her hand in Louis’ knickers, trying to keep it slow, to drag this out in a way that she hopes Louis likes. It’s easy like this, familiar and practiced. It’s not as scary as she thought it would be, now that she’s made it this far, and now she can _enjoy_ it. She can just _watch._ She can watch Louis’ abs flutter and her knees bend as she tries to push up into Harry’s hand. She can watch Louis twist the duvet up in her fingers and–

“ _Harry_.”

And it’s really more than Harry’s equipped to handle and when her fingers slow to a stop so she can slip a little lower and hear Louis whisper, “In– inside. Go on.”

Harry forces herself to follow the instruction before he can overthink it and she’s rewarded with Louis moaning loudly in her ear. It’s a sweet, high pitched, breathy sound that Harry’s never heard before. She wants to hear it again. And maybe again after that.

“Tell me,” Harry mumbles. “Tell me what to do.”

Louis whines. “Just. Fuck, Harry, I dunno. Just keep doing what you’re– what. Shit. Whatever you’re doing is great, really. Just keep going.”

She kind of wants Louis to tell her exactly what to do. Maybe even demand it, where it’s not a request. That’s maybe something for a different day, so she keeps up her steady pace, cataloguing which angles make Louis’ back arch and her breathing stutter and her hips desperately chase the sensation of Harry’s fingers.

“Jesus Christ, H, you're killing me.”

She sounds pleasantly frustrated. Harry brings her hand to Louis’ forehead to swipe her fringe away from where its stuck to the skin with sweat and presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Louis squirms.

“Harry...” She drags out the word and ruts up into Harry’s hand like she’s trying to get the job done herself.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry mumbles, pleased with the state of desperation she’s got her girlfriend in.

She fucks Louis with her fingers like she means it, like it’s not her first time. Louis seems to like it harder than Harry does on herself, and she’s able to take two (two!) fingers. Harry’s hand starts to cramp and her whole hand is wet, wet, _wet_ that she kind of wishes her mouth was there to catch it all and everything is making a horribly familiar squelching sound that Harry usually tries to avoid. But she thinks if she’s stops now to try and be quieter, Louis might murder her. Plus, Louis really is a sight like this, skin shining in the yellow lamplight with sweat, her whole body trying to keep up with Harry’s unpredictable movements. Harry doesn’t want to do anything to disturb her. She’s so responsive to the stimulation, unabashedly whining and squirming and pinching herself all over like she likes the pain. Harry thinks she does. Harry pinches her hip for her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis whines, high pitched and drawn out, voice going shaky and whole body trembling. She arches her back one last time, hips slowing to a stop before she falls like a puppet with its strings cut into Harry and gently bats her hand away. “Oh, fuck.”

Watching her has lit up a live wire inside of Harry. Her whole body is buzzing with anticipation and desire. Her body begins to move on its own volition, chasing relief against Louis’ back, bringing her wet fingers from Louis’ knickers to Louis’ mouth and watching, stunned and horribly turned on as Louis accepts them, licks them clean.

Harry says a silent prayer for her poor, virgin eyes.

Louis lets Harry’s fingers fall from her mouth. “What d’you want?” She’s still panting, chest heaving and legs twitching every so often with aftershocks. “Harry, love.”

“Dunno,” Harry says. Her eyes feel glazed over, she can’t focus.

“What do you want, love?” Louis says once more as she lazily noses at Harry’s neck. “Can eat you out if you want. Anything, just talk t’ me.”

But she’s gone limp and pliant, out for the count as far as Harry can tell. Harry thinks that maybe that’s too much for her anyway, still as insecure as ever, still shaken and too horny to think.

“I’m– As much as I’d love that…” And she would, she really would. “Just– Just lie back.”

She maneuvers herself out from underneath Louis’ sleepy weight and lets her flop back unceremoniously. This Louis is familiar to her, that worn out, cuddly version of her that Harry loves so much. But she doesn’t think she’s ever been this turned on in her life. Her fingers that were just inside of Louis have gone cold, a tangible reminder. She can still hear Louis’ whines echoing in her head and she’s pretty sure that if she doesn’t come in the next five minutes her head might explode. Harry’s never been this dramatic before, has never _wanted_ so badly. Getting off has always been a chore, an underwhelming experience that left her ridden with guilt and disgust with herself. But now she’s got her lovely, blissed out girlfriend beneath her, and all she wants is to have that same dopey smile on her face and not feel bad about it.

When Harry settles herself so that she’s properly straddling Louis’ thigh, grinding down selfishly, she’s rewarded with Louis’ warm hands on the bare skin of her hips underneath her vest. She’s so, so aware of the fact that Louis can feel the wetness from Harry’s pants on her bare leg, but she forces herself not to care. She’s allowed this. It’s fine. It’s… it’s a whole mess of emotions that Harry’s brain isn’t wired to deal with.

“Alright, H?”

Harry hides in her neck once more, biting her lightly and taking advantage of being horny enough that her brain has begun not to care. She can suck a big bruise into her girlfriend’s neck if she pleases.

“Perfect,” Harry says. It’s breathy and desperate in a way she never thought she’d sound. There’s a moan brewing at the bottom of her throat and she never _ever_ thought she’d make a sound and feel it so involuntary ripped from her. But it feels so good, and Louis’ hands are guiding her along, pushing and pulling her back and forth even though Harry’s doing all the work herself. It’s almost, _almost_ , enough. “Can– can you touch me? Please? Just. Over my knickers, don’t have to take them off _please_?”

She says it all in a rush and ignores how whiny she sounds. Louis seems to like it though, and she’s got a hand on her before Harry’s even finished her sentence. It’s infinitely better, so Harry chases that instead, pressing down harder into Louis’ fingers and kissing her like she doesn’t need to breathe. She kind of doesn’t. Because this is everything she was afraid to ask for. It’s not so scary now, with Louis kissing her back, less jelly-like, and her free hand squeezing hard on Harry’s hip. She could die right here and it all would’ve been worth it.

“God, Harry, you’re so beautiful,” Louis says between kisses. She lies back, but Harry doesn’t stop, and she’s just watching her now. She has that same look in her eyes as when they first started, just raking her gaze over Harry’s body. It feels so odd, so new, to be desired. “Wish you could see yourself.”

She probably looks a mess, but she’s afraid to try and say anything in case words don’t come out.

“Love you so much,” Louis whispers. “So proud of you.”

Somehow that really does it for Harry and not a moment later her eyes are fluttering shut and she’s shaking with the force of her orgasm. The sound that’s been trapped in her throat tumbles out, and she can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed. She didn’t know it could be this _good._

Louis gets the hint after Harry’s flopped down on top of her an retracts her – wonderful, magical – hand. Then she uses the same hand to brush Harry’s hair out of her eyes. Harry wrinkles her nose.

“Oh, you can shove your gross come fingers in my mouth but _I_ can’t use my only free hand?” Louis teases.

Harry giggles. She thinks she has that same smile on her face that Louis had before. It sure feels like it.

“I don’t think groping my arse is ‘in use.’”

Louis takes her hand out of Harry’s knickers to dig her fingers into her hips. Harry squeals, ever so ticklish but too spent to bodily react.

“Oh, fuck off!” She bites at Louis’ shoulder in retaliation.

Louis stops tickling her in favor of wrapping her arms fully around Harry. These are the moments that Harry’s been missing in her fear, the moments she’s been desperate to have. There’s a certain kind of intimacy that comes with post coital bliss that she’s longed for, and here it is. Their breathing still hasn’t calmed, their hearts beating fast. They’re waiting for their world to slow back down and it feels so fragile.

Louis doesn’t seem to notice.

“M’sorry that you felt scared to tell me. Or ask me. We’ve still got a bit to discuss but I hope that now you know that you can come to me with anything. And that you can make me come anytime you please.”

Harry snorts. It’s an unattractive sound but they both know she can’t resist a good pun.

She whispers her response into Louis’ neck, nosing at the soft hairs behind her ear. “I love you so much.” It feels so inadequate, but it’s all she can think of to say.

“Love you too, my darling. In every which way.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, please leave kudos and comments if you liked it. if you didn't im open to criticism!


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